Silent Scream
by naltariel
Summary: An unusual story, told by 1st person POV. no slash no romance. Biblical. Not twisted Jesus or God! First of my Forgotten Tales of the Bible series!


**Silent Scream**

It was quite. No sound was heard, save for the crackling sound of burned wood. The sky was but a black empty space. No moon. No star. The night was completely dark if it had not been brightened by the fire on the altar. 

The altar. Which I built by my own bare hands: stone by stone, rock by rock. My bleeding palms stained its surface; my tears drenched it. However, I could not care less. 

I knew I wasn't worthy to build such a holy shrine. But then again, which Levite priest would hear my plea for setting up a sin offering to redeem my offence? I was a doomed Canaanite, an alien in front of Jehovah or whomever Israelites called their God. I was but the woman who had handed their judge to his adversary, to their enemy. Most of all, I was Delilah, who would forever known as the seducer and the betrayal of Samson, my beloved. 

No. He was not my beloved. Neither I was his. We did spend pleasurable time together; we kissed, we made love, and I listened interestedly when he told me the story of his people. But he had never loved me. I didn't even think he had ever loved anyone, save himself. 

One would think he loved his people and his God. But no, I did not think so. If he loved his God, he wouldn't stray from His words. He would not have defiled himself with prostitutes. Nor would he infatuated with me and disclosed his secret. And if he yielded to his God's words, then he would not have shattered my whole life and his as well. 

He had ruined many lives before, under the Divine will of his God. His first wife. The prostitute in Gaza. Me. 

I remembered when he first saw me. The desire in his eyes, his sweet words to capture my heart. Honestly, I was more frightened than pleased by his passion for me. And my fear was not proven reasonless. The Philistine rulers came to me, offering silver for exchange of my betrayal to him. They asked me to lure him so he would show me the secret of his strength. Deep was their hatred, and I knew; there would be no escape if I refused. 

The memory of Samson's first wife and her father was still fresh in my mind. Of how the Philistines burned them, as the Philistines deemed them the cause of Samson's rage. Would I escape such fate if I refused to cooperate? Would my family escape their wrath? And could I blame them? They were but seeking prosperity and security for their country. 

I had no choice. Couldn't you see that? They would kill me, and they would annihilate my family as well. Oh Samson! If you only listen to your mother. Did she not teach you? _Do not spend your strength on women; your vigor on those who ruin kings. *_

I saw his eyes when he was taken away. Filled with hatred and disgust. I did not blame him. I had betrayed him. But he was also a betrayal; he betrayed his birthright, and his people. He was their judge, but he failed them. He sold his position and responsibility for profanity, fleshly pleasure. 

I turned away from the fire, throwing my gaze to a flock of sheep far away, guarded by their shepherd. I remembered what I heard from Samson about the law: "If he brings a lamb as his sin offering, he is to bring female without defect. **" 

There was no lamb around me. I would sacrifice myself. Just like Jephthah sacrificed his only daughter**. But I was unlike her, innocent and pure. And she was an Israelite. 

I often pondered of what in Israel that He was so fond of. They were, by all means, no better than us, the Canaanites. Maybe even worse. They forsook Him, who brought them out of persecution and slavery, led them across the treacherous desert, fed them daily, placed them on the wealthiest region ever, even banished my people from our homeland. Their adultery to their God was great, and shuddered even an immoral like me. 

But He loved them still. Like He loved Samson. 

Did he love me? 

'I know I am not a flawless sacrifice. I am not an Israelite who had been sanctified as Your beloved people. I did not choose to be born a woman, much less Canaanites. I did not choose to be loved by Samson. I could have chosen to remain faithful to him, but I didn't. I preferred my family's well-being and me. And it was my greatest crime. Could I not be pardoned for that? Oh Jehovah, hear my defense.' I looked upon the starless sky and prayed inside. 

Perhaps He heard my plea, perhaps He did not. I did not know but I wouldn't beg further; nor would I shed anymore tear. It was my nagging and tears that make Samson complied my request. I didn't think this God would be moved by such kind of pleading, nor could be bribed either. Good deeds and religious activities were but a dirty garment in front of Him. I merely submit myself to His justice and grace. If he would forgive me, then I could never thank Him enough. If He would not, and I must spend eternity burned and rotten in Eternal Fire, of which this small flame could not compare with, so be it. I could not change His decrees anyhow. 

I turned to face the burning altar. I must do my decision as soon as possible; the wood to fuel the fire was decreasing fast. I took a deep breath, my last breath, and closed my eyes. 

Pain flared all over my body, consumed each fiber of my being. I screamed and retched, but there were no turning back. Fear overcame me. Please, God, do not let me torture like this for eternity, I cried and plead. Please forgive me. Please. Please Please. Please. 

Then everything was void. 

************************ 

*Proverbs 31 : 2. 

**Leviticus 4: 32 

*** She was sacrificed by his father as a Nazar fulfillment to the Lord. Read Judges 11: 34 – 40. 

All quotation from NIV Bible. 

sorry for the grammatical errors. 

**A/N: **This is story of Delilah after the capture of Samson, told on her POV (point of view). Purely fictional, but very based on Bible. This is the other side of the coin... Who can say it couldnt end like this? Explanation will be posted later. 

If wild my breast and sore my pride,  
I bask in dreams of suicide,  
if cool my heart and high my head  
I think "How lucky are the dead"  
_- - - -Dorothy Parker "Mortal Thoughts"_


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